


Cast Away

by Sparcina



Series: How Frostiron Could Have Started [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU Desert Island, Bottom!Loki, But Tony does not listen, Coconut fights, Desert Island, Human Loki, Loki Has Issues, M/M, Pepper gives good advice, Rimming, Rough Sex, Somebody is a sick fuck, Storm matchmaker, Survival Skills, Switching, Tony has a very specific foot fetish, power bottom loki, top!tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8182148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: In which Tony and Loki end up on a desert island. Together. What could possibly go wrong?
  Desert Island AU





	1. Not Exactly Sunbathing

**Author's Note:**

> Since I couldn't find that AU anywhere, here it is. And look at that! A multi-chapter story, even though I promised myself to stick to OS for this new fandom. Ah, well.  
> PS: I ALWAYS finish my works, even if it takes time.

Tony Stark woke up with the mother of all headaches. His first thought was that he didn’t remember drinking enough to feel like Thor had mistaken his head for an anvil. A couple of milliseconds later, he tasted sand in his mouth. As a matter of fact, he had sand in his mouth, around his mouth, down his throat, and basically all over his face. More sand cushioned his battered body. He meant to ask his AI what the hell was happening, but what came of his mouth–apart from an impressive amount of sand–was a pained noise between a growl and a pained sob. 

He managed to tilt his head upward, only to be hit by a laser beam of excruciating power. He whined pitifully and ducked his head. 

“Wait a minute,” he mumbled, catching yet more sand in his goatee.

He gathered his energy and got to his knees, blinking. Yep, that was what he had thought. He wasn’t in the Avengers Tower anymore, or in any of his residences scattered all over the world. He wasn’t, either, in Heaven or in Hell, or forgetting to leave a one-night-stand’s place before dawn, like the relationship coward he was. Not that he had any of those recently. He searched his pockets, discovered he had none, and abandoned any attempt at communication for the foreseeable future.

He stood on a fucking _desert island_. Well, knelt, but his surroundings didn’t change back to his bedroom for his musing. He made rapid calculations. The island didn’t look much bigger than twenty acres across. There was a slope downwards leading to a small tropical forest, birds singing in the tree–so basic sustenance, if he managed to hunt them down–, there had to be fresh water somewhere, and if not, he could always…

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His stomach did a few somersaults, and not in a good way.

He had been busy examining the coastline, noticing the patterns of sea urchins and algae drying on the white sand, warming up to the sight of coconut trees, when his eyes fell on another human form, star-shaped on the beach a mere meter away from him. 

Not exactly human. He would recognize those narrow shoulders, high cheekbones and black hair anywhere, in any clothes. The fact that Loki wore his usual Asgardian black and green garments was just another sign that something was terribly amiss. Tony pinched himself, but he wasn’t dreaming. Seriously, why was he always awake for the most delirious situations?

Loki grunted. Not too sure what to expect–had Loki brought them here?–, Tony made way for the god to rise. He was weaponless, suitless, and basically resourceless in that Caribbean setting. He knew he should have signed those awful official documents Pepper had emailed him during the night. Maybe it would have soothed Fate.

Loki blinked once. It took him awhile to convince horizontality to yield. He didn’t look so good, much like Tony felt himself. Occam’s razor told him the simplest explanation couldn’t be that Loki had suddenly decided to stop being a killer on a spree and invited him for a drink last night, but it just didn’t sound right. And didn’t look right either, if he read correctly the murderous intent spelled out in bold letters in the green eyes of the disheveled god.

Tony frowned, intrigued by this small detail. In all their battles against each other, Loki had never, _never_ had a hair out of place. He probably used magic. Which made Tony consider doing something pretty much at the far end of the stupid spectrum.

“You have no magic right, now, do you, Reindeer Games?”

The god’s eyes flashed. He truly had beautiful eyes, for someone with genocide attacks as a hobby. Tony took a step sideways, the only comprise he could find between fleeing to the other end of that stupid island and shoving his head in the sand in denial. Second ostrich moment of the day.

Jarvis would have told him to proceed with caution, but his IA was not here. Tony missed him acutely.

“Did you bring me here?” he asked once he was at least 50% sure Loki was just considering tearing him apart limb from limp, in the most painful way invented in all realms. “Do you know where we are?”

Loki raised his chin, fury and confusion painfully clear on his face. He tried to gain back some dignity by wrapping himself in his cloak, but it was torn apart at various places, thus lending him a pitiful appearance. Tony nonetheless made a beeline for the nearest coconut tree. The closest hairy shell was at least three meters up, and the trunk didn’t have bars bolt into it. He sure wished he was ten years younger. No, screw that: twenty. He missed his suit with the same anguish a newborn got throw out into the world. He felt like screaming at the top of his lungs in a good imitation of said newborn.

He could do this. With a last lingering look to a seething god, he started to calculate his chances of not breaking a leg in the very humiliating process of hiking up a coconut tree. In the end, he decided to shake the tree. He got a couple of nuts his way.

An hour later, he had a dozen, and a very sore back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something big and dangerous approaching way too fast–and way too big to be a harmless fly. He got knocked on his back, head pounding with a whole new kind of pain.

“What the flying fuck are you doing?” he called, trying to get back up.

Loki was considering the coconut he had just thrown at him with contempt. Disappointed it didn’t kill the human? Tony balled his fists. This unholy situation was going pear-shaped at the speed of light. Even Einstein couldn’t have predicted this.

“Stop mixing me up with a can opener and give me a hand, will you? I’m sure I am not on your top ten list of things you wish to have with you on a desert island, but you are not on mine either, so either lend me a damn hand or get the fuck off of my hair. _Capisce_?

He screamed the last word. He had a ten top list for such situations, and it included his suit and Jarvis, and since his IA could be considered part of the suit, he just needed one thing, wasn’t he becoming reasonable with time? Pepper would be proud, if she wasn’t dead worried about another disappearance of her boss. He didn’t wish to trade places, but just barely. There was Loki not too far away. A human Loki perhaps, but humans had killed other humans in the past.

“Humans lack much in manners,” Loki said, lips pursed in disgust. “I will not lend a hand to you, Tony Stark. You will die here, like the puny human that you are, while I find my way back to my realm.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Loki on a desert island was a very dense Loki. Even Thor wasn’t so delusional, albeit the God of Thunder still had issues telling TV shows and News apart. “You have been stripped of your godly powers, haven’t you noticed yet?” He squinted, crying against the sun glare, and took aim at the snob son-of-a-bitch who had somehow agreed to paint a target on he back of his head. A wide cross of naked skin even flashed under Loki’s armor, inviting further assaults. Tony threw the coconut with all of his strength. It would hurt the bastard’s pride, if not the actual point of collision.

“See?” he called, satisfied by Loki’s shock. “Doesn’t crack open, even on that thick skull of yours. Actually… oh, I will be damned.”

“What is this?”

Tony, who had crouched to take ammunition, froze. Then he started to laugh.

“What is so funny, Stark?”

 _You, Princess_ , Tony wanted to answer. But he was laughing too hard and could only do so louder when Loki risked a glance to his left shoulder, where a beautiful tiny blue bird had nestled his even tinier head in the crook of his neck. The coconut lay at his feet, opened in halves, white liquid poured on Loki’s naked feet.

Tony spent a moment wondering at how fast someone could develop a foot fetish. Fortunately for his sanity, his endogenous backup Jarvis rapidly kicked him–reason. The acknowledgement that Loki got nice feet, turned creamy by coconut milk, got shoveled under the pile of shitty moves the god had pulled on the Avengers over the last few years.

Tony couldn’t let his recent lack of sex life get the better of him. He was not fantasizing about Loki. He _wasn’t_. His cock could be sheathed past those red, thin lips, down a wet and tight and warm throat, that he still wouldn’t be turned on by the God of Mischief. If…

_Ok, stop!_

“I shall endeavor to drink that human concoction,” Loki said, not so furious now.

It had to be the perspective of a meal. Of maybe he liked small birds. And Tony didn’t find that cute _at all_.

“You might want some of it when I am done,” Loki added, bringing a half to his lips.

He drank the white, sweet liquid, eyes closed in concentration. Tony swallowed hard. “To better serve me, of course,” Loki added.

He had white milk at the corner of his mouth. Tony began to sweat. It was always hot in the Caribbeans, it wasn’t unusual. Were they even in the Caribbeans? He should strip.

“Serve you?” he croaked. “I don’t serve you,” he managed to say.

Loki smirked. “If you want to use my head as, say, a ‘can opener’, you better have good hunting skills to offer in return. I am getting hungry.”

 _Don’t we all?_ Tony must be going a little soft in the head if he didn’t find the perspective of an undetermined vacation with the God of Mischief so dreading. Must be the coconut hit to the head.


	2. Suck It Gently

           The grand tour of the island lasted until sundown. By then, they had found one tiny source of rain water, which tasted foul but relieved their parched throats. Animals were scarce and small, much of the flying or fleeing type: exotic birds, rodents and lizards of fantastic colors that would have gone well with Natasha’s complexion.

            After hours of complaining of Tony uselessness, and having insinuated that the human would make an acceptable meal if nothing else, Loki threw itself at two-meter long snake and killed it with a twist of his bare hands.

            Tony’s jaw dropped. That act of savage predation took balls, if only because the prying snake also tried to strike at the god with lightning speed. Be it only to himself, Tony had to acknowledge that even stripped of his magic, the god still possessed impressive skills, and a great deal of courage.

            He blanched when he saw that the fangs were close in length to his pinky. Quickly, he revised his first impression: that was a show of recklessness, not courage. It took one impulsive idiot to recognize another didn’t it?

            “You’re sure it’s not venomous?” he asked meekly.

            Loki glared before granting him with an answer. Unhelpfully, Tony’s mind supplied him with the dreamlike picture of a white spot on the god’s lips. He hadn’t had enough coconut juice just yet…

            _Stop right there, deviant mind of mine!_

            “I am immune to such proclivities,” Loki replied in clipped tones, handling the reptile like the clearly inferior creature it was. “I would eat it whole and undisturbed now. You can have your share when you earn it.” On those words, he sank his teeth into the snake’s middle.

            “Earn…” Tony’s mouth snapped shut. “I fucking knew it!” 

            The god had taken a step backward, surprise etched on his alabaster features. The snake fell from his hand, limp and moist. His lips opened and closed without forming a sound.

            Tony let down the walking stick he had dragged along for the past few hours–presumably to keep tricksters at bay–and grabbed a delicate wrist as the god’s knees buckled. Blood had drained from his face.

            “Let go of me, Stark.”

            The snarl was expected, as was the fist to his face. But if the first promise was delivered en _seguido_ , the second kept him waiting. Not very disappointed, but growing worrier and worrier, Tony ignored Loki’s grunts of protest and lowered him to a clear patch of ground. His eyes scanned the surrounding grass for a threat. Nope, the snake Loki had planned on eating raw had been a uniquely suicidal specimen of his species.

            “I feel unwell,” Loki said, eyes unfocused.

            “No shit, Sherlock.” Tony swore in his goatee. What could he possibly do? Jarvis would know twenty-five different keys to this particular knot of problems, but Jarvis was very, very far away–there was no way this island stood in his backyard. Damn it, he should have given at least 10% of his attention to Steve the last time the Captain had insisted of teaching them life-saving strategies. Well, if he had known he would end up…

            He shook his head, ordering his disarrayed thoughts. He couldn’t count on many options. He should be happy that the snake’s venom was making Loki pliant in his heads, that he could tug a wild strand of black hair behind an ear–what the hell? he quickly forced his hand away. The problem was that Loki could die, and then what would happen? Cannibalism wasn’t his only option yet; surely fighting for survival was more fun with an enemy, at least from a masochist’s perspective.

            That foot fetish kind of helped. 

            “Now is not the time to sleep, Reindeer Games,” he said steadily, mind clearer. “Damn it, Loki, stay awake!”

            The god’s eyes had fluttered shut. Tony sought the puncture mark in a frenzy. Where had that snake bitten him? Surely he hadn’t been that flexible…

            He found the oozing wound and didn’t stop to experience disgust. Thor would owe him big time after that; hell, the whole Asgardian community still interested in Loki’s survival–if they hadn’t been the whole to exile him here in the first place, but how would Tony be involved in that mess?–would be indebted to him.

            He drew a deep breath and slammed his mouth on Loki’s flank.     

            _God!_

            He imagined the taste of coconut milk over the acridity of venom. The coppery tang of blood didn’t bother him, probably because his scientist mind was too busy analyzing the exact effect _that_ blood had on his taste buds. As long as he didn’t have an open wound in his own mouth, he would be fine. He had to be, if only to save Loki’s ass next time the god acted stupidly.

            He pressed his mouth harder on the torn flesh, sucking up liquid and spitting it up as fast as he could. In his alacrity, blood trickled down his chin. He felt dirty in more ways than he cared to consider.

            _Come on,_ he thought fiercely. _Don’t let me hang in there, asshole._

His hands fisted into the garment spread across Loki’s hips. Of all the places that snake could have chosen to bite, it had to be on the god’s belly. Tony refused steadfastly to consider the land south of the belt hemisphere. One, Loki didn’t have a belt, and two, it would only slow him down.

            Dizziness permeated his mind. He moaned against the wound. How much more could he take before he passed out, before his own immune system stopped to care? Did he have a wound in his mouth? His last lover hadn’t been that hardcore. He should have had an implant of Jarvis placed into his wrist. Why hadn’t he though of it? That would have been a perfect excuse to avoid yet another meeting.

            The body under him tensed. A hand that had previously lain still near his head closed on his hair.

            “Get me off, Stark.”

            Tony couldn’t help the whine that escaped him. A bolt of desire shot straight to his groin.

            “I said: get _off_ me, mortal!”

            Tony wiped his mouth. His hand shook. How very encouraging.

*

            The evening had come and gone. They stood on the beach, feet in the water, munching on a handful of oysters.

            Tony felt much better with something in his stomach. The snake’s venom had been potent. He still couldn’t believe that Loki could walk as he did so soon after that incident; it if had been him, he would be lying on the sand and wishing for a bottle of whisky. And that way Loki was walking, the moonlight highlighting mercurial and yet handsome features…

            Loki stopped pacing.

            “Why are you staring at me, Stark?”   

            _Shit._

            Tony thought he did a very good effort of not showing any sign of his inner turmoil. His intimate dilemma would remain his own.

            “I am very, very not staring at you right now, Reindeer Games. Actually,” Tony kicked a coconut in the way. At least, they wouldn’t die of thirst or projectiles to bash each other with. “I am rather taken by that amazingly stunning patch of sand right there…”

            “You are staring at me.”

            Loki chuckled. The weak kitten Tony had saved from certain death–with his own mouth near his crotch, thank you very much, no, not going there again–had morphed back into a stealthy, hypnotizing panther. Tony went to tuck his hands in his pockets, remembered he didn’t have any, and opted for silence. He would have to tell Pepper how well he could keep his mouth shut in the right circumstances.

            “You find me attractive,” Loki crooned, definitively amused. “And you struggle with your desire.”

            Tony took a step back, averting his gaze.

            “I am not.”

            He wasn’t going to tell the god that he wasn’t lacking in the look department. It wouldn’t bring any good. He planned on getting away of this island alive, with his pride mostly intact.

            “I don’t find you attractive at all,” he insisted.

            Loki’s eyes narrowed. Tony focused on his naked feet. No, not good. His slim, slender waist, where bruises were going to form… No, not going there either! He settled for the nearest tree. Coconut trees were quite beautiful, if one took the time to look. He would ask Jarvis for a redecoration, Caribbean style.

            “You lie.”

            Tony arched an eyebrow.

            “No, I don’t,” he blatantly lied. “How would you know?”

            He knew he had made a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. 

            “I am the god of lies. How would I know to tell truth and lie apart indeed?”

            Loki shoved him backward, towards the water.

            “You are weak, a human. Of course you would find me desirable. But don’t worry, Stark, I am in no way inclined to take what I want from the likes of you.”

            Tony didn’t move an inch as Loki trailed a finger down his chest. Little waves swirled around his ankles, barely helping compensating the sudden temperature rise in his body.

            _Fine, you want to play? Let’s play._

            He wasn’t a genius for nothing. He could recall whole strands of data with the ease someone else might snap their fingers. Forcefully ignoring the hand and the eyes trying to drive him to submission and better–worse–consequences, he drew upon the formulas ruling the physical universe. Gravity, nuclear force, bosons. He could spend days entertaining himself with numbers and equations; as a matter of fact, he had done it in the past. He could tell Loki knew what he was doing, and that he knew Tony knew it.

            “You are pathetic.” Loki let his hand fall and turned around. “You shall build us shelter for the night.”

            _My ass I will_. Not wanting to imply any part of his own body in a conversation with the god at that point, Tony followed the only reasonable path: “Sure, if you get us an edible dinner.”

            He had to do something before he was caught in a trap; he could already sense the lure.


	3. The Wrongness of It All

           Tony spent the next few days focused on two very different objectives: staying alive and convincing Loki he absolutely didn’t pin after him. Since they needed to build some kind of shelter and hunt for their sustenance, he had the good fortune to channel one challenge through the other.

            He welcomed the physical work. Cutting wood was a bitch when one didn’t have the right tool, but Tony was in shape and a natural enthusiast, so he made do, ignoring blistering fingers and calloused hands. He had had worse with the Ten Rings. And if he could turn weapons into a fucking flying suit, he could certainly use coconut trees to build himself a roof. Not that it had started to rain or anything. But it might. Most probably would. And it could get colder in no time, one never knew, especially when one could be anywhere on the planet.  

            So that was how he ended up shirtless under the blinding sun, hitting a length of bark with the sharpest rock he had found. He had been struggling with those cavemen tools for more than twelve hours straight now, but that wasn’t unusual, and Pepper wasn’t there to order him in bed, or cuff his wrist to a pen and a document needing his urgent signature. So he went on working, went on sweating, muttering about the lack of caffeine or Capsiclish distractions.

            At some point, he had almost forgotten that the former God of Mischief–the former applied obviously to the godly part–wasn’t sharing the Island of Doom with him. Yep, that was a nice name.

            Loki had chosen to spend his time exploring his new realm. He always came back at some point with some food, so Tony was content to let him to his own devices. Not that he had any say in the matter, obviously. But it was good to his mental health, this division of labour. The less he saw of Loki, the less he reminisced on the mouth-watering view that white coconut milk had offered, all spread out on the god’s feet, or the way his back arched as Tony had sucked the venom out of the wound on his side, or how that mouth, which let out the cruelest castigations, could form the most attractive, kissable pout…

              _Oooookkkkk. Differential equations. No, screw that, let’s review the schematics for the quantum messenger…_

            Physics helped. Unfortunately for him, Loki didn’t, apparently as eager to stay near him as Tony played the solitary card, when he wasn’t busy taking himself for Tom Hanks. The Island of Doom wasn’t big enough to part them for any considerable length of time.

            A shame. A torture. Tony was starting to get a case of blue balls.

            “You retain the claim of your ignorance?”

            Loki emerged from the Doom forest, naked from the waist up as well. He had somehow mended his pants. Tony closed his mind to further images of Loki naked on the ground, whistling while doing needle work, and struck the wood with the stone. He would have been a clan leader a couple of millions years in the past. It wasn’t a worthy consolation, even if Thor would have thought otherwise.

            “Clearly I do,” he said. He hit his own thumb, distracted in spite of himself, and stifled a curse. Any exclamation containing the word ‘god’ led to Loki taking exception. “What about you, Reindeer Games? Don’t you know why we are here? I’m pretty sure it’s your fault, not mine.”

            Tony put a hand on his brow, trying to convince his sweat glands to stop pouring salt and water in his tired eyes. At least, it kept him from seeing too much of Loki’s.

            “Odin would have no reason to cast me to this piece of land on Misgard,” Loki replied in disgust. “That is not his conception of punishment.”

            Tony snorted and went back to his work. For the next two hours, Loki let him work in silence, lounging on the sand under the setting sun, his black hair spread in the sand over his head. It did him good. His skin was too pale. Creamy…

            Tony straightened. _Ok, what do we have here?_ He crossed his arms and considered his latest achievement.

            He had managed to fabric a strange contraption out of leaves and bark that resembled a house in the underdeveloped world. He should have accepted Pepper’s offer to go and see for himself the homes his people had erected in Africa using his Fund for Civilization; surely, they were better than this pathetic attempt at sheltering his sorry ass, and Loki’s very firm one.

            _No, not going there,_ he repeated like a mantra. It was becoming increasingly difficult, thought, what with sucking at Loki’s flat stomach and all that. But he was managing, he really was.  

            Loki, who had been standing with his feet in the water, strode back towards him and sat on a round stone with his usual fluidity. Since fluids and Loki in the same sentence tended to do irreparable damages to his brain, Tony focused on what would be his bedroom, his kitchen, his workshop and his closet for the foreseeable future.

            “You sure are a promiscuous man,” Loki observed.

            The blank face made Tony want to hit him. He inhaled deeply, thinking about coffee and robot parts.

            “In case you haven’t noticed,” _Asshole_ , he added silently, “I don’t have the material to build a fucking Asgardian palace. So either deal with it or sleep in a tree.”

            If such a feat was possible, Loki’s face was getting blanker.

            “You are to serve me, Stark. Or else I will have you starve.”

            “I can find my own food, thank you.”

            “No, you won’t.”

            And with the same fascinating speed had struck that snake the other day, he backed Tony against a tree and held him by the neck, thumb pressing deeply into the bulging vein. Tony swallowed hard. He didn’t go for pale, vampirish-looking guys as a rule, but Loki had the most extraordinary features, hard and unforgivable, that made him want to lick every inch of him, starting at his feet.

            Licking and Loki also weren’t an acceptable syntactic combination. And he, idiot that he was, shouldn’t be entertaining this kind of fantasies while being threatened to have his neck broken.

            “You do what I say, when I say it, and I will let you live.”       

           Tony tried to talk, but Loki’s hand acted like a vice around his neck. The former god’s lips brushed his throat, and was Tony imagining the grazing of teeth? A throaty laugh welcomed his struggle.

           “I am stronger than you, Stark, so until we get out of here, I suggest you be very careful with that mouth of yours.”

            Pepper had tried that line of reasoning, too–hadn't worked.

           “Does that mean I can try to defenestrate you too when we get back to New York?”

            Loki snarled but didn’t hit him; he probably wanted the shelter ready for when the rain started. Dark clouds were gathering in the fiery, violet sky, and a cold wind billowed, arranging the sand in new formations. Tony shivered. He could hear thunder rolling in the distance. The crests of the waves were getting higher, as if to applaud the oncoming storm.

            Tony considered his options. He was still considering them when the sky broke over the Island of Doom.

 **AN** : How are they going to keep warm? Oh ho…


	4. The Temperature of Lust

            Tony added wood to the mental fire he could unfortunately not create in real life. Yep, being stranded on a desert island didn’t have any kind of benefits, fringe or not. Being stranded on a desert island when it rained, with only a few coconut branches and leaves for a roof, definitively rated as less than a one-star motel. As for being stranded on the Island of Doom with a pouting, former god who expected him to somehow stop the rain and get them out of here… it sucked as hell.

            _No, not going there._

            “I am cold, Stark.”

            Tony’s teeth chattered in a vengeance. He glared at the lean, catlike figure drawn in the shadows. Loki’s black hair was plastered to his brow and cheeks.

            “And what could I possibly do about that?” Tony spat, rubbing his own arms.

            Loki let out an annoyed growl.   

            “Why does death follow life? Why had my father decided to burden me with an absurd first name? You could have built a better shelter, for one.”

            “We all have daddy issues, ok? Or, maybe you have multiple daddy issues. I get it. But in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have the tools I need in this damned place.”

            “You built a suit in a cave out of your own weapons, Stark.”

            Tony’s heart squeezed painfully. He hated it, hated the vulnerability of this knowledge.

            “Who told you that?”

            “Does it matter?”

            _It fucking does._ “Forget that.”

            Tony pictured Loki frowning. For once, what came out of his mouth wasn’t a threat or a demand. “I know what vulnerability is, Stark.”

            “Only because you’re stuck here with me. You will kill me as soon as I am of no more use to you.”

            The rain was pouring unrelentingly over the island. Tony knew he couldn’t get any more drenched, but he still felt the cold wetness seeping through his skin, wearing out his bones. He closed his eyes.

            He hadn’t expected Loki to touch him. The former god probably hadn’t either, for he drew back his hand as soon as it connected with a cheek. Tony exhaled deeply, shivering with enough force to break himself into small pieces. A one-of-a-kind one-thousand-piece puzzle, Iron Man Frozen.

            Loki interrupted his daydreaming. Not that it had been very helpful. "I have no such plan, you know.”

            Tony tried to shrug and mistook his tongue for a word. The pain didn't help with the cold, unfortunately. 

            “You keep threatening me, princess. Unless your word means nothing?”

            Loki was silent for a moment. Tony rubbed his cheek against the sand in a vain effort to bring some heat back to his body. Pepper would kill him if he got killed in that wretched place.

            “We don’t even know why we are here, and we will die,” he snorted between clenched teeth. “That’s just peachy.”

            “Stop blathering, Stark. I, for one, seek a solution.”

            “There’s none, unless you get back your magic wand.”

            Time, they didn’t have time… _Oh._ Tony would have gladly received another coconut to the head. Why hadn’t he thought about it earlier? Silly him.

            _Or maybe not,_ he mused, eyeing the feral creature facing him. Loki’s eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

            “Speak your mind, Stark.”

            “I’d better show you, or you wouldn’t believe me.”

            Tony moved before he could think better of it. Loki was so surprised to have that hand tear at his torn, wet clothes, that he let Tony undress him without a protest. Tony had never stripped a lover so slowly before, but then Loki wasn’t his lover, and they both were so cold every gesture was a defiance to physics.

            Tony was still trying to get rid of his own boxers when Loki pressed a hand to his chest. They snarled at the same time, for very different reasons.

            “I know you’re not interested, but bodies share heat waayyy better without clothes in between. At least, human bodies do.”

            He didn’t point out that he, too, wasn’t interested. One, Loki would know it was a lie, and two… Tony was too cold, too human in that slow death, to think past point one. Especially since Loki had snaked that forbidding hand between arm and flank to better anchor himself as he pulled his very naked body against Tony’s.

            “You know those things better than I do,” Loki crooned. Why he wasn’t shivering as fiercely as he should have, and could still talk clearly, was beyond Tony. “After all, there _is_ a reason I’ve kept you around.”

            “So glad to… be… of service.”

            His tongue felt like an icicle between his bluish lips. He swore to every god that didn’t wear a helmet in his spare time that as soon as he was back to the Tower, he would transform the pool room into the hottest sauna in the city. He would put every project aside and invent a dry shower, too. Dry. That would feel good. Almost as good as…

            His breath hitched. There was a keen craving spreading in his chest, gently melting the ice shards that pricked his skin. In a rush, he was reminded of every heady–inappropriate–, exciting–forbidden–fantasy he had ever entertained about the very human body currently climbing up his body. Loki’s arms were enveloping him, his legs rubbing against his thighs.

            He pictured Loki sipping the coconut milk. Remembered how he had felt–the heat, the desire–as he had sucked the venom through the fangs mark. He was reminded time and time again of his stupid, lethal attraction to the most unstable, crazy being of the universe, and…

            “Your thoughts are so loud, Stark.”

            Tony noticed he wasn’t shivering so badly anymore. For a Jotun, Loki sure generated a lot of heat. A split second later, he felt a new kind of wariness surge in his bloodstream.

            Loki had been moving so much against him–probably on purpose, the bastard–that his cock was rock hard by the time Tony connected the feeling in his lower belly to the alarm ringing in his head.

            “I told you you wanted me,” he purred.

            Tony had had enough. “And you don’t, and that’s fine.” He tried to disengage himself from the intricacy of limbs that was Loki, to no avail. Death suddenly held an unprecedented appeal.

            “Stop squirming.”

            “Or what?” He did his best to push Loki away, which only resulted in the other pinning him down against the makeshift ground of their temporary home.

            Loki’s face hovered above him. His lips parted. Tony saw a pink tongue lick at them. So close to his face, the former god smelled of forest, rain– _what else?_ –, but also of exotic places that made Tony want to climb inside that mouth and taste every nuance available to his human senses.

            “Stop moving so or I will put an end to your pathetic existence.”

            Tony snorted, more amused than annoyed, for some reason. Probably stupidity. Pepper would certainly concur to that.

            “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, Stark.”

            _Oh, for God’s sake!_

            He cupped Loki’s chin and brought his mouth on his, intent on silencing him. The moan he got in return shot straight to his groin, where all the blood that had warmed him was migrating for other purposes. Loki made the most beautiful noises, and Tony made sure to swallow them all as he sucked, licked and kissed those godly lips. Loki moved his hips above him, brushing their cocks together. This time, it was Tony who let out a wanton moan: Loki was every inch as hard as himself.

            “So needy, my Stark.”

            The throaty voice only added to the seductive power of those words. Tony ran his hands up and down that slim waist, lingering over the puncture wound left by the venomous snake. Loki let out a curse in a language Tony didn’t know and didn’t care to learn, because it was so much better to wonder. Loki was otherworldly and Tony didn’t want to forget it. He reached for the other's cock and began to give it long, slow strokes, because he could, and Loki rutted against him like an animal in rut and wasn't that what he had wanted all along?

            “You like that, don’t you?”

            Loki bit down hard in the tender flesh of his shoulder. Tony shouted in pain but didn’t stop. Part of his brain was on autopilot, intent of bringing Loki to completion.

            “If I didn’t like it, I would stop you.”

            Tony glided a thumb over the leaking slit, relishing the hitch in Loki’s breath. He shifted his hips so as to better handle that pulsating cock.

            “Says the guy who assured me I wasn’t worth looking at twice.”

            “I didn’t want…”

            “Neither did I. But I’ve wanted to suck you off since the very first day we got here.”

            _Preferably with coconut milk all over your feet, but that can wait another time._

            Loki’s eyes flashed.

            “Then stop talking already, Stark.”

            For once, Tony didn’t protest the order and slid down Loki’s body until a pair of white, firm thighs straddled his face. A warm cock pressed against his chin, demanding attention. Tony found himself faced with a very, very hard choice. On one side, a cock that had to taste as good as it smelled, and the promise of milky cum down his parched throat. On the other side, an ass set deep into silky cheeks he yearned to bruise with his thumbs. He had never done a rim job before, but he had no doubt that he would be even better than his reputation promised. Self-confidence and all that.

            In the end, he opted for exotic.

            “Stark!”

            _Haven’t expected that, have you, princess?_ He thrust his tongue deeper into that ecstatic warmth, thinking about what he could fill it with later on. There was no taste coating his tongue, but the stretching–fighting–muscles around his tongue almost made up for the lack of precum to savor. He drew his tongue back, pushed it back in, again and again and again, already dizzy with the needy moans he coaxed from Loki.

            “Stark, what is… what are you...?”

            Tony licked his lips and pushed one finger in. Loki’s cock jerked against his cheek. Tony drew his tongue along the blue vein under it, chuckling as Loki almost lost his balance.

            “Never been on the receiving hand of a rim job before? You're so precious.”

            Loki growled. Tony had barely enough time to think, _oups!_ , before Loki grabbed his hand in shoved three fingers into his own ass. Tony gasped. That was even more violent than angry sex, but Loki didn’t seem to mind as he fucked himself on Tony’s fingers. With his free hand, Tony caressed Loki’s side, trying to keep himself from coming in the next couple of seconds. He had known Loki would be a passionate lover, and one hell of a commanding bottom, but it didn’t prepare him to the sensation of having his cock taken in one gracious dive. A rush of lust gathered in his belly. He sank his nails into Loki’s sides, holding for dear life as Loki moved over him, around him, panting beautifully under the rain.

            _Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

            Tony couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t feel anything except the sheath engulfing his cock, and then Loki’s mouth on his, and he sucked at his tongue like he would have sucked his cock, that cock that kept jerking above him, a cock he grabbed and stroked while he tried to remember how to breathe, how to postpone the mind-blowing orgasm that kept growing and spreading and god he wouldn’t last…

            “Fuck!” he cried out. He came in Loki’s ass just as white cum shot on his belly. A great deal of cum. Tony let out a ridiculously happy sound as a few white drops fell on his lips. He licked them clean, humming in approval.

            “I believe my powers are back.”

            Tony could only stare as Loki slowly got to his feet. The rain, suddenly, was unable to touch them, kept at bay by whatever magical shield Loki had conjured. He felt a headache beginning to build between his temples. Whoever had sent them both to this deserted island, it was one sick fuck who clearly hadn’t been notified that porn existed.   He turned his head to one side, then the other, but couldn’t make the aforementioned sick fuck. Maybe...

            _Whatever._

            “I am in need of better accommodations,” Loki announced in his usual drawl.

            A strong hand brought him to his feet. Tony blinked, then smiled.

            “You know what? So I am. About that dive through the window…”

            Loki was still threatening to end his life in a very slow, painful fashion, as he took his turn claiming Tony’s ass, back in the Avengers Tower.   

            “Welcome back, Sir,” Jarvis said smoothly.

            “On your knees, Stark.”

            Tony let Loki manhandle him whichever way he pleased. He was back in the Tower, he was having great sex, and Loki wasn’t trying to kill him–too busy fucking him, probably. Life seriously didn’t get any better.


End file.
